Through Loss Came Love
by Emmacakes
Summary: When Lucius Fox's secretary and her husband are killed in a car crash Bruce makes the generous offer to temporarily take in their young daughter, unaware of the experiences he would have to endure and the surprisingly big impact she will have on his life.
1. Chapter 1

**Authors Note: **This story takes place in the Arkhamverse but not necessarily during any of the games, though when I was writing it I imagined Bruce in Arkham Origins. A younger, more inexperienced and maybe a bit less well-balanced Bruce Wayne. Though this probably won't tie into the Arkham Origins plot at any point, it's that point in Bruce's life that this takes place, kay~? Just a heads up!

* * *

The day started fairly typical, or what seemed to be nowadays. Alfred was impolitic to say the least, coming into Bruce's bedroom and pulling back each of the dark curtains that were draped across the bedroom window. Bruce let out a groan, rolling over in a childish manner. Perpetually seeming to be in a teenager's frame of mind when it came to mornings, Bruce was always unwilling to get up on time and dreaded Alfred's routine morning disturbances.

"I'll be down in a bit, Alfred," he whined, folding half of the pillow around his head to protect himself from the unbearable amount of light pouring inside the room.

Smiling a little to himself, Alfred nodded, entertained by Bruce's childish demeanor. "I'm about to prepare breakfast so do make an effort to come down soon, Master Bruce," he responded formally, then leaving Bruce to himself.

Laying there for a good while, Bruce let his mind adjust to being awake. He rolled over onto his back, running a hand over his slightly-stubbled face, and listened. Not for anything in particular, but he enjoyed indulging in the tranquility of the morning – before having to put on the two masks he had to adorn every day, the metaphorical and the literal. There was the usual stillness, which he had always found himself appreciating, and the faint sound of the breeze outside, the clock ticking across the room; he picked up on every slight sound the mansion contained. Though now a sweeter sound had come with every morning – a delightful disturbance from the result of an upheaval of two lives – the light pattering of footsteps making their way down the hall. It was a sound that could easily send Bruce out of bed with little to no trouble upon hearing it.

The sweet smell of requested chocolate chip pancakes and syrup enveloped him as soon as he stepped foot into the kitchen, with a faint hint of freshly made coffee which was still sat in the coffeemaker. Though the pancakes were not his request, he still enjoyed their scent. Alfred was just starting to wash the dishes as Bruce made himself a cup of coffee, leaning against the counter with a yawn; though running on only a few hours' sleep didn't seem to bother him anymore. Not when he could experience mornings like this.

The sun shone in through every window, each of their curtains pulled aside for this very purpose as the sun's deep orange radiance of the early morning projected a warm glow throughout the household. Though it wasn't the serenity of the morning's natural atmosphere that gave them so much meaning, but those who he was able to share them with. The oddity that had now become the mundane. A natural warmth that had been brought into the manor that had once been a lonesome reminder of a grim past, now a constant reminder of accomplishment and, most of all, innocence – something Bruce had been absent of for so long.

Across the island in the center of the room sat a small girl, Lucy. Her messy dark auburn hair had a pleasant luminescence in the sun's radiant glow, falling just past her shoulders as her bangs were frayed and unbrushed; her feet swung back and forth, barely making their way halfway down the stool she sat upon. She stopped hastily eating the pancakes that were placed in front of her and looked up, a youthful brightness in her eyes that Bruce was almost unaccustomed to as she said a quick "good morning" before returning to eating her breakfast. Bruce smiled at her, another peculiarity, and returned the greeting before taking a sip of his coffee.

"I've prepared a plate for you, sir. It's over there," Alfred mentioned, motioning to the island with a single nod.

Nodding in return, Bruce took a seat at the island beside Lucy where a plate of toast and grapefruit and the day's print of Gotham Daily newspaper sat in front of him. Lucy eyed his plate in disgust before carefully hopping off of the stool to put her plate in the sink, then running off to get ready for school.

The sound of her light footsteps got further and further away as she made her way across the large mansion to her bedroom; her outfit already set out for her courtesy of Alfred. Bruce could feel the life of the room pull away as soon as she left it. She had become so dear to him, such a detrimental part of his life in the brief time that they've known each other. There was now a small light in his dreary world.

Dressed in the outfit Alfred had laid out, hair and teeth brushed, Lucy returned to the kitchen a good fifteen minutes later. Bruce was nearly finished with his breakfast and focused on finishing his coffee as he tried to suppress another yawn with no luck.

As Alfred dried the last of the dishes, Lucy brushed past Bruce to grab her backpack on the floor against the base of the island. She carefully slid each of her small arms into the straps, gripping her hands around them near her shoulders. She looked up at Bruce who scoffed at the newspaper's article on the GCPD's current progress of identifying the identity of the Batman which was, unsurprisingly, inconclusive. He could feel her stare and turned to her, raising an eyebrow. "Yes?" he asked.

She took a step closer to him, making him lean down a little. "I just wanted to say goodbye before I leave," she said timidly, lovingly wrapping her arms around his waist. Though it was difficult for Lucy to get her arms around Bruce's broad stature, she enjoyed the embrace just the same. Blinking his eyes in surprise, Bruce didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around her in return. It didn't seem like too long ago that this occurrence would seem completely out of the question, and that Bruce's expressions of affection would seem just as unconventional as Alfred had then chimed in.

Bruce smirked as he and Lucy parted, looking over at Alfred. "I _know, _Alfred," he said in his usual cocky tone when holding conversations with the butler.

"I believe it is time for Miss Lucy and I to be taking our leave now, sir," Alfred added, hands formally clasped in front of himself. He stood at the doorway leading into the next room, waiting to take Lucy to school.

Looking at the time, Bruce agreed. He looked down at Lucy again and smiled gently. "You have a good day at school," he told her, an unintentional sternness in his voice.

Lucy repositioned her backpack's straps to a more comfortable part of her shoulders and smiled wide in return. "I will," she said cheerfully, a bit more bounce in her tone. She faced away from him and joined Alfred in the doorway, the two of them then walking away together.

A faint smile still on his face, Bruce returned to unenthusiastically reading the newspaper, but could hear Lucy and Alfred's voices echo through the mansion's large main room as they headed for the door. Just as Lucy was about to step foot outside, she turned back, yelling a cheerful "Bye, Bruce!"

Her smile, her enthusiasm – childish characteristics that had thankfully not been lost. Bruce couldn't help but feel a sense of achievement given the circumstances in which they had met; what they went through to get to where they currently were. Who knew that something that had started with such tragedy would wind up so wonderful?

* * *

"Mr. Wayne?"

Bruce was shot back into reality at the repetition of his name. He had been dozing off at his desk, once again being caught by his assistant. He could never deny that his nightly crusades and severe lack of sleep didn't take its toll on him, though of course he would never willingly disclose this information to Alfred no matter how many times he would pester him about it, particularly for the reason that he always seemed to be right. He just couldn't give him the pleasure.

Shaking his head slightly, Bruce looked over at her as she stood near his office door. "Ah, I'm sorry," he apologized, flustered. "What is it?"

"Mr. Fox called. He said he's able to see you now," she replied, a kind tone in her voice despite the many times she's seen Bruce slip up on his charade of acting like a decent CEO with a proper night's sleep. She never seemed to mind and for that Bruce was always thankful.

Bruce straightened up, running a hand through his hair as he bashfully stuttered. "O-oh, yes! I'll head to his office now."

There was always a genuine embarrassment every time his assistant had caught him falling asleep. Even though he had constantly been feeding people the idea that he was apathetically irresponsible, he always had intentions of having as much professionalism as he could at work. It was the least he could do to uphold his family's name within the company.

He managed to walk off the feeling on his way to Lucius' office, taking a seat in front of his desk when he saw that nobody was there. He looked outside the office's window, taking up almost the entire wall to the side of him. During the day the city seemed so innocent, so calm – filled with the impression that it was redeemable.

"Sorry I couldn't get back to you right away, Bruce." Bruce instinctively turned around to the sound of Lucius' voice behind him as he hurriedly entered the room, quietly shutting the door behind himself. He sat in the chair beside Bruce's, not bothering to go around to his desk chair.

Bruce could already tell that something wasn't right. There was a lack of spark in Lucius' eyes; a dullness that unknowingly disclosed tragedy. "No, don't worry about it. It's fine," he assured him, forcing a casual smile.

Lucius let out a sigh, running a hand up his forehead and through his hair once. He shook his head, bleakness in his gaze. "I was given the news that my secretary, Scarlett, and her husband were killed in a car accident this morning." He wasted no time in telling Bruce the news, unable to keep such shocking information to himself.

Bruce's eyes widened, almost involuntarily letting out a surprised gasp, partially because he was surprised that he wasn't informed until now. He bore an unfortunate familiarity with the pain of losing somebody that always made this kind of news all the more painful to hear. "Oh no, that's horrible. My condolences, Lucius, really." He sat awkwardly, keeping his eyes on Lucius as he watched his unchanging expression, analyzing it to make sure that he was okay.

"Thanks." Lucius shook his head again. "Such a shame. She was such a wonderful person. Her husband worked down in the mailroom," he said. Though Bruce had only spoken to Scarlett briefly in a professional setting, that didn't make the news any less tragic. The loss of two employees was definitely a hard thought to adjust to, but he didn't see it as losing two employees, but as losing two innocent people.

Lucius suddenly got up and walked over to the window, gazing out at the city similar to how Bruce just was. When looking out at it, it was easy to get lost in admiring its busy streets. Lucius was a strong man, capable of staying rational even at the worst of times, but Bruce understood and stayed quiet, allowing him to take a moment to himself without interruption. He stood in silence for a minute or two, collecting the thoughts that lay heavy on his mind, before revealing the worst of the news to Bruce; the brunt of the news that had already seemed horrible enough.

Still facing the window, Lucius let out a mournful sigh. He focused on the world going on outside, everyone's lives still ongoing the same as they always had – everything unchanged and fast-paced. "The worst part is that they died on their way to work this morning after dropping their daughter, Lucy, off at school."

His words hung heavy in the air. Eyes wide, Bruce leaned forward in immediate concern. It was a topic that he understood all-too well; it was almost impossible for him to take it lightly. "How old is she?" he asked, voice soft. He could feel a build of anxiousness as the seconds between his question and Lucius' answer seemed to drag on.

Lucius still looked away. "Only six," he recalled. "Such a sweet little girl. She doesn't deserve this."

Bruce's eyes shifted, scanning the carpeting ad he looked down at the floor; his hands clenched into fists as they rested atop his lap. "No child deserves this," he muttered; his voice deep with complete seriousness, burdened with the bitterness of experiencing such misfortune firsthand.

As if coming to a sudden realization, Bruce's reply caused Lucius to impulsively turn around to face him. Bruce's demeanor seemed to change almost entirely, no longer holding an upright supportive appearance but instead a painfully honest and troubled one. Lucius almost regretted letting Bruce know about their daughter, but was somewhat relieved by Bruce's loss of apathy. "You'd know that better than anyone."

Again, they both fell silent. Bruce was consumed by pity, imagining how their daughter must feel by remembering exactly how he had felt after his parents' murder. How alone she must feel, and the complete shock of somebody being in your life one moment and them being taken out of it the next. No matter how old you were it seemed to be incomprehensible, but for a child your parents are your whole world – people you depend on for everything – and for them to disappear out of your life so suddenly at a young age is a horrendously traumatizing displeasure. Dreading what would become of her, he raised his head once again, tearing himself away from his thoughts. "So what will happen to her?" he questioned uneasily.

With a concerned look on his face, Lucius walked over to Bruce, standing in front of his desk. "According to what I've heard, she's going to be put into the system since there's no family around to be granted guardianship."

Bruce covered his face with his hands, shaking his head slightly in distress. "They can't do that to her. She'll be put into some orphanage," he protested.

Lucius laughed halfheartedly, crossing his arms with amusement. "You of all people shouldn't be worried about that seeing as this company funds them in order to provide the best care possible."

Bruce awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, tilting his head to the side. "I know, I know." He started to get lost in thought again, contemplating what he should do with this situation presented to him. He couldn't possibly let such a little girl get put into an orphanage when he could offer his assistance, but the problem of whether or not that was the right decision also had his attention. "I still can't see a girl who just lost her parents be thrown into that environment when I can do something about it."

"What do you mean by 'do something'?" Lucius asked, raising an eyebrow as he leaned back against the desk.

Bruce looked at him with an apprehensive expression, both of his eyebrows knitting together as they formed perfect upward arches. "Well… I could take her in for a while, temporarily, just until a proper foster family is found." His expression didn't falter as he looked for a sign of acceptance.

Lucius smiled, relieving Bruce a little. He knew he could trust him to assure that Lucy would get the care she needs at such a critical time, though his offer was definitely surprising when thinking of his alter ego of sorts. "I would have thought you'd be the least willing to do that. You know, with your nighttime escapades," he said, only partially joking.

Bruce smirked agreeably in full awareness that Lucius' words were entirely truthful, despite how he played them off. Even Bruce himself was surprised by the offer he had just put forward. "Well you know me. I can't seem to turn a blind eye to someone who needs help."

It only took a moment for Lucius to willingly accept Bruce's proposal. He shrugged, uncrossing his arms and pushed himself away from the desk. He pouted as he nodded in approval, still rather surprised. "Alright then. I'll try to get in contact with the social worker in charge of her case and let her know of your offer to take her in," he said, walking over to the other side of his desk to grab the phone.

It took a few minutes for Lucius to get in contact with Lucy's social worker and Bruce couldn't help but feel a little uneasy. He rubbed his hands up and down his lap as he waited for Lucius to get off of the phone, paying careful attention to what he was saying, trying to piece together what the other end of the conversation possibly was. It seemed as if things were working out in his favor, but he couldn't be entirely sure. Lucius told her of Bruce's stand on the situation and there was a short pause before Lucius explained how Bruce "strongly believes that she should be put into his care where she can receive proper attention." Another short pause followed as he watched Lucius write something on a piece of paper; his face seeming to brighten before he wrapped up the conversation.

Bruce's eyed widened in curiosity as Lucius hung up the phone. He looked over at him with a joyful smile. "She said Lucy's all yours. She advocates your philanthropy and trusts your care, surprisingly enough," he told him. "They were struggling to find an orphanage to place her in and she was glad I called. She said she'd like to talk to you personally and that you can talk to her when you arrive at the school to pick her up." He picked up the small piece of paper he had written on, handing it to Bruce. "Here's the name and address of the school she goes to."

Bruce stood, taking the paper from Lucius and gave it a quick glance before putting it into his pocket. Lucius put a hand on his shoulder in approval, kindly thanking him before he left the office for the school. "Bruce, I know you're not doing it for me, but thank you."

Bruce half-smiled, replying with a quick "don't mention it" before he left to find his way to the school. Never being a person looking for praise he brushed Lucius' gratitude off easily, but still appreciated his thoughtfulness even so.

Once he sat in the car he felt an overwhelming rush of confidence. He was becoming gradually more driven by his self-assurance as he became aware that this decision was the right one to make. The more he gave in to his memories, the more driven and determined he became – just as it always had been.

He felt around in his pocket and pulled out his cellphone, prepared to call Alfred to tell him about his current situation despite dreading whatever commentary he would feel it necessary to add about it. It took a few moments for him to answer; Bruce cleared his throat. "Alfred, I need you to prepare the guest bedroom," he said nonchalantly, as to avoid possible questioning but instead just provoked it.

"The guest bedroom? Might I ask why, sir?" Alfred asked, surprised; his voice rose with curiosity.

Bruce tried to rush the conversation by briefly explaining the situation to the inquisitive butler. "Lucius' secretary and her husband died this morning on their way to work," he stated, Alfred replying with an instantaneous 'oh my' at such unpleasant news. Bruce carried on, "They had a six year old daughter. Child services were having trouble finding a home to put her in so I offered to let her stay with us until a foster family is found."

It didn't take Alfred long to construct a witty response. "Well, this is rather unexpected," he said bluntly. Bruce grimaced, about to coldly reply when Alfred spoke again. "Though it will be nice to have company here at the manor," he added.

Bruce's grimaced expression retreated to a subtle smile as he pulled up to the school, rushing the brief conversation to its end. "I'm picking her up from the school now. I'll be back soon," he stated before hanging up, hastily shoving the cellphone back into his coat pocket.

He sat in the car for a few minutes, reassessing if what he was doing really was a good idea once again – to be sure that this truly was what was best for Lucy. "This isn't the time to second guess yourself, Bruce. Not now," he said to himself, lightly making a fist. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, opening them with the determination he had developed earlier. The type of determination he had gained years ago and the very kind that kept his alternate life ongoing. He had made a promise to protect innocence, to uphold justice, and this was an extension of that promise. A little girl whose innocence was in jeopardy needed protection, assurance, understanding, and he was the ideal person to provide that as somebody who craved these needs himself years ago.

He entered the school, quickly making his way to the office; both of his hands fiddling inside of his coat pockets again, the one twiddling its fingers around his cellphone. Through the window on the office door he could already see Lucy; the social worker beside her, rubbing her back as her small frame shuddered in her seat. Though her crying was muffled, it was still heart wrenchingly loud.

He opened the door, cautiously walking in before shutting the door as quietly as he could. "Hi…" he said gently, his eyes drawn to the sorrowful little girl. Lucy's cries filled the room; her face buried in her hands as she didn't bother to look up.

"Mr. Wayne, hello," the social worker replied. A woman possibly around his age, but seemingly experienced in her career; though despite her professional demeanor you could hear a hint of distress in her voice.

They took a few steps further away from Lucy, talking as quietly as they could without them being unable to hear each other over the crying. "I'm Mrs. Parker. I'm in charge of Lucy's case," she informed, formally holding her hand out for Bruce to shake which he of course obliged. There was an apathetic softness to her face regardless of the situation and Bruce tried to level his expression with hers to remain professional. She leaned in a bit closer to him, a dead seriousness in her eyes that would probably intimidate most. "You're one hundred percent sure you're willing to take on this responsibility, right?" she questioned, crossing her arms. "Because you have to be absolutely certain, Mr. Wayne. This isn't going to be a walk in the park," she went on.

Bruce's eyes widened, emphasizing the point he was about to make. "I understand that. Trust me, Mrs. Parker. I'm positive," he affirmed.

She was silent for a moment, her tongue clicking on the roof of her mouth making a small 'tsk' as she uncrossed her arms. "Alright," she consented. "I appreciate your willingness to help, Mr. Wayne."

Looking a bit puzzled, Bruce stood quietly. They exchanged concerned glances at one another in which they communicated as Lucy's cries still did not falter, though slowly becoming softer and softer. Bruce motioned to Lucy in questioning, unsure if he should approach her yet or not, and Mrs. Parker nodded.

He walked over to her and crouched down beside her seat. Her face shielded by her messy curtain of hair. "Hello, Lucy. My name's Bruce."

Lucy sniffled, blinking away some tears as she tried her best to hold back her sobs. She lifted her head and looked at him; large green eyes glassy and swollen as her cheeks were red and tear-stained. "H-hi…" she said softly, her voice hoarse. He could see the reluctance in her eyes – a mix of disinterest and wariness. She couldn't help but be afraid, of course having the fear of strangers instilled in her at a young age, and now she was suddenly expected to live with a man she only knew as the person who owned the company her parents worked for with what little understanding she had of how a business is operated.

"I've come to pick you up. You're going to be staying with me for a while, okay?" Bruce continued. He spoke as delicately as he could. It was strange for him to be on the other end of this situation, but tried his best to remember what Gordon had said to him; how he treated him during their first meeting and how he dealt with the pressure. Bruce found it tremendously difficult to express the amount of compassion he wanted to. He could understand the minds of many – average citizens to criminals – but the complexity of the mind of somebody who's experienced the loss of a loved one – he understood that it was nearly indecipherable. Everybody handles it differently and he knew firsthand that kind words didn't mean much at first. Words can't turn back time. "I know you probably don't want to, but you unfortunately need to. Just for now."

Lucy gasped a few times to catch her breath as she managed to finally put an end to her cries and looked over at Mrs. Parker for assurance. "You can trust Mr. Wayne, honey," she told her, placing a hand gently on her arm.

Lucy looked back at Bruce, muttering a hesitant "okay," before wiping the tears from her cheeks with her sleeve.

In her eyes there was not an ounce of youth, no matter how hard Bruce looked. These weren't the eyes of a carefree child; they were the eyes of somebody who had been shoved into reality far too soon. He remembered what it was like, to be a child one moment and feel comatose the next – to have your childhood gruesomely torn away from you. It was a contrast he would have to live with for the rest of his life, and now she would have to do the same.

With a brief discussion of home visits being conducted at some point in the future thrown into their goodbyes, Bruce then led Lucy to his car. She reluctantly walked by his side, neither one of them saying a word to each other. Now that Lucy had forced herself to stop crying she felt numb – unable to process the thought of her current position and nearly frozen with uncertainty.

Nearly the entire car ride back to the manor was plagued by an uncomfortable silence. Bruce kept thinking of possible things to say, but couldn't speak them. Every so often he'd glance in the rearview mirror just to check on her, but her condition remained the same – still, blank, and heartbroken.

It wasn't until they reached the mansion's long winding driveway that Bruce finally spoke. "We're here," he announced brightly.

Passing the rod iron front gates, a golden "W" on each one, Lucy looked out her window in awe at the sight of the mansion at the edge of the wonderfully landscaped grounds. Never seeing a mansion in person before, she had wondered if they really were as big as people claimed them to be and Wayne Manor truly exceeded her expectations. With broadened eyes she remained glued to the scenery outside, though this experience would have seemed significantly more amazing if it weren't for the grim circumstances.

Parking the car in front of the front door, Bruce opened the car door for Lucy. She slid out of the vehicle and followed him to the door; a quick knock of the bronze knocker in the center of it before Alfred pulled it open. "Welcome home, Master Bruce," he said upon them walking inside. He looked down at Lucy, still shocked by the temporary arrangements, but was more than pleased by her presence. He smiled warmly. "I assume that this beautiful young lady is our new guest. It's a pleasure to meet you miss…?" he paused to catch her name.

"Lucy…" Lucy replied shyly, awkwardness overwhelming her.

A smile still on his face, Alfred carried on. "Ah, Miss Lucy. It's lovely to have you staying with us."

Lucy smiled uneasily, finding it difficult to hold eye contact with him. "Lucy, this is my butler Alfred," Bruce informed her. It was as if she were stepping into an entirely different world – one that seemed to only be known in fiction, but she said nothing of the matter.

Bruce and Alfred looked at each other with an equal amount of discouragement in their glances. Alfred had seen that face before – that broken look. He remembered how to tend to this situation. It took caution and thoughtfulness, and though Bruce knew how it felt to experience such loss as a child, only Alfred had the experience of treating this with an adult's perspective. "Why don't we show Miss Lucy to her room?" he suggested.

Pleased with the idea, though it being common sense, Bruce agreed. He put a hand gently on Lucy's shoulder, making her jump at his sudden touch. "How about that?" he asked kindly. He felt her flinch and felt a sudden sense of doubt, pulling his hand away while maintaining an expression of positivity and support.

Lucy gave a slight shrug, hardly shrugging at all, and they guided her through the mansion to her temporary bedroom. Everything she did seemed forced, like all of her actions were only a small fragment of what a person could typically express. They could feel how uncomfortable she was, sense her unfaltering apprehension, and even though they both greatly wanted to assure her safety and their support and willingness to help, they knew that there was little that could be said that would seem the least bit convincing or appeasing to the little girl. With every moment Bruce spent with her, he could feel the increase in doubt piling on his already-heavy mind.

A collection of medieval armor lined the walls of the main room leading to the hallway – not the most child-friendly of interior decorations – causing Lucy to feel even more wary as she followed the two men. She felt a hint of relief when they came to a stop at the end of an upstairs hallway.

Opening the door to the darkened guest room, Alfred held it open and made way for Lucy to enter the room after Bruce who flicked the light on. A bed, two nightstands, and a dresser with a mirror hung above it were the only articles of furniture of the room. Bruce never had guests that stayed the night so the room remained unused and held no purpose until now.

Lucy slowly walked into the center of the room and looked around, still with nothing to say. Bruce took a few steps forward, now standing behind her. "I hope it's okay. I'll send somebody to collect your things. They'll be here tomorrow," he said quickly, monitoring her carefully to look for some hint of a positive response even though he doubted the possibility.

Staying with her back facing Bruce and Alfred, Lucy could feel tears welling up in her eyes again. Slowly they pooled and it wasn't until she blinked that they made their way down her cheeks. It wasn't the room itself that set off her crying, but the simple fact that she would no longer be able to return to her home. The place she grew up in, the parents that raised her in that place, they were both torn out of her life. She wouldn't be able to see either of them again and the drastic and sudden change stunned her. She stayed silent, quickly wiping her tears away before turning around, giving an unenthusiastic nod in reply to Bruce's earlier statement. Bruce and Alfred both caught sight of the quiver in her lip and the redness in her eyes even though she tried her best to appear fine.

Alfred offered another suggestion. "Why don't we leave Miss Lucy to get settled in, Master Bruce?" he asked, widening his eyes ever slightly to hint Bruce to give her some space. He knew that sometimes, despite having the best intentions and wanting to help, it's best to back away for a while.

Bruce picked up on what Alfred was trying to get across and agreed. Before leaving the room he bent down a little, talking as lightly as he could. "If you need anything, don't be afraid to ask, alright?" he told Lucy.

Somehow managing to remain composed, she shook her head in understanding; Bruce and Alfred then leaving her to herself. Bruce shut the door behind himself and as they made their way down the hall it wasn't long before they could hear the faint sound of her crying as she broke down.

Bruce abruptly stopped once they reached the end of the hallway, an uncertain look in his eyes. "What am I doing?" he asked Alfred desperately. "I don't know how to raise a child, never mind a little girl whose life has just been turned upside down." He looked down, shoulders slumping a bit forward, and sighed, eager to hear whatever wise input Alfred had to give. As much as he understood her situation and could be valuable in offering his help, he now wondered exactly how he could carry that out. Seeing how unhappy she was – how dreadfully grief-stricken – he was unsure if there really was much he could do in the short amount of time he would have her living with him.

Alfred tilted his head a bit. "You know, sir," he started, gaining Bruce's eye contact again. "If I've learned anything from raising you, it's that you must be patient." A small smile made its way to Bruce's lips as he said this, well-aware of how much he's made Alfred endure. If anyone knew anything about the significance of patience, it was Alfred. Placing his hand on Bruce's arm, Alfred smiled as well. "Give her some time to adjust. I guarantee she will eventually."


	2. Chapter 2

Bruce sat in his study, staring blankly at the bookshelves across from the chair in which he sat as his mind tried to wrap itself around a dozen thoughts that raced through it. It had been hours since he showed Lucy to her room and, despite his good intentions, Alfred insisted that he give her some privacy. Filled with doubt and concern, he found it difficult to carry on with his day without feeling confined by this burden.

Trying to find a productive use of his time, he grabbed his cellphone which was sat on his lap and called Mrs. Parker, politely asking for Lucy's home address so he could send some movers to collect most of her things and deliver them at the mansion the next day. The apartment that they lived in would soon be for rent, her parents' things surely going to be sold at an estate sale or given to charity; he had to get Lucy's things and take whatever he could before they were gone.

Without much hesitation she gave him the address, though the information stirred some of Bruce's curiosity upon hearing it. "Isn't that in Burnley?" he questioned, leaning forward in his seat.

"I believe so, why?" Mrs. Parker replied, her tone matching the amount of curiosity that Bruce had.

Trying to pass it off as a simple question as not to alert her and cause further questioning, he tried to muster a cheery tone. "Oh, I was just wondering," he said nonchalantly.

After Bruce finished up their conversation he sat deep in thought, questioning why Lucy's parents lived in such a rundown part of the city. It wasn't something that raised the suspicions of Mrs. Parker, but his curiosity was definitely piqued. Scarlett, being Lucius' personal secretary, had a well-paying job as far as he knew, and though her husband's job of working in the mail room was hardly a decent job in itself, both of their incomes would assure them enough financial security to not have to live in a cramped apartment in Burnley. There had to be expenses that would cause them financial troubles and he was curious as to what they were. The first thing that came to mind was a loan, but he'd have to look further into things to figure out exactly what it was for. If they owed a debt with the wrong people, it could be that their car accident wasn't so accidental afterall. He frowned, afraid that he was jumping to conclusions, but now that he had his suspicions he just couldn't settle for a simple assumption that their deaths really were just an accident.

He glanced down at his watch for the time before rushing to the nearest entry to the Batcave. The sun had finally gone down and it was the opportune time to investigate. He brushed past Alfred who wondered what had caused his sudden need to go down there, stopping in his tracks on his way to the kitchen. "Master Bruce, might I ask why the sudden rush?"

Bruce didn't bother to stop walking, briskly trying to get to the Batcave with as little questioning as possible. He didn't want to waste any time. "I've got a hunch. I'll explain later," he said bluntly.

Alfred frowned in disbelief of Bruce's sudden behavior. "But I was about to start preparing dinner," he complained. It wasn't the first time he had made this complaint to Bruce either.

He only got a cold reply. "Keep some warm for me."

Alfred sighed in irritation, not having been surprised at his response. "What about Miss Lucy, sir?" he asked, crossing his arms in disapproval.

Bruce felt a slight hint of guilt setting in as he slowed down his pace before he fully stopped, though he knew that this would benefit Lucy if his hunch was correct. He needed closure and knew that perhaps, someday in the future, Lucy would need it as well.

He didn't turn around, indifferently giving Alfred a reply before making his way to the Batcave again. "Tell her I had a last-minute meeting. I'll be back later."

He tried to speed up his usual routine – under armor, suit, prepping the Batwing – driven by the distraught look in Lucy's eyes, the sound of her cries echoing through the hall. Using the Batcomputer, he pulled up the accident report as well as the news coverage on the crash which only further raised his suspicions. Photos and news clips of the crash site showed no skid marks in the direction that either of the vehicles were travelling, no signs of a loss of control from either vehicle, and the one that hit Lucy's parents' car was a large SUV perfectly capable of causing a fatal crash without causing much damage to the person inside. Either the cops who investigated the crash were covering something up or simply looked over all of this questionable information, the former being more-than-likely.

The sight of the car made him cringe. It was almost unrecognizable as it was completely totaled. The driver's side was entirely dented in and the passenger's side was pinned up against a building as it was pushed up over the sidewalk. Though most of the damage was toward the front of the car, Bruce was sure that Lucy probably wouldn't have survived the crash either had she still been with them.

He tried not to let his mind get clouded as he flew the Batwing to the edge of Burnley, creating a fly path for it to return to that Batcave before dropping down onto a rooftop below. With the aid of the computer again he found his way to Lucy's apartment building which sat across from a shady hotel; one block away from the Gotham Rail and the GCPD. He found an access point to the floor that her family lived on, stealthily inching through the hall until he reached her apartment number, then picking the lock of the door with ease before anyone could see him.

The apartment was quaint, small; a complete opposite compared to his home, but then most homes were. Family photos hung on the wall over an outdated television set; a grim reminder of what Lucy had lost.

He looked for anything that would support his theory – bank statements, phone numbers – _anything_ that could possibly aid him in finding an answer to his questions. He carefully looked around the living room with no luck before walking into the kitchen; a cramped fit as he scooted past the table. He saw a small basket in the center of it filled with papers, not hesitating to pick it up and sift through them. Inside it were various bills for cellphones, cable, taxes, amongst some shut off notices. Both their cellphones and cable were in jeopardy of being shut off from the failure to keep up with their payments, though with their combined salaries they probably would have been living comfortably if these were their only expenses while living in a building with expectedly low rent. Some part of the equation was definitely missing.

He kept the information noted and left the room to walk toward the bedrooms where he also found no helpful information. He stopped as he walked by Lucy's bedroom, the pastel yellow walls capturing his attention. It held a certain sense of nostalgia; a few toys scattered along the floor, stuffed animals lying atop the bed's pink comforter. She would never be able to return to this room; to wake up in this familiar space or return to it after school or go to bed in it at night. He was sickened by the thought, but it fed his determination.

He left the apartment via the fire escape and scowled at the lack of information he found there. He scanned the ground far below him, giving the situation some thought. He looked up and could see the top of the GCPD, realizing that he had at least one valuable ally – the new commissioner, James Gordon.

A cup of coffee in hand, Gordon walked into his office. He leisurely flicked the light on, unprepared to see the Batman standing in the corner of the room across from his desk. He jumped, nearly dropping the hot beverage in his hand before clutching his chest with his free one. "Jesus! How did you get in here?" he asked angrily.

Bruce ignored the question, taking a step closer to Gordon's desk. "I need your help," he stated emotionlessly.

Rolling his eyes with a sigh of irritation, Gordon humored him. "Fine. What with?" He walked over to his desk, placing his coffee on top of it before standing before the vigilante.

"Do you know anything about a car crash involving a Scarlett and Ethan Byrnes that occurred this morning?" he inquired.

Gordon nodded, eyes narrowing. "Yeah, some of my guys went to investigate and set up road blocks."

Bruce took another step forward. "Did anything about it seem suspicious to you?" he asked, a slight direness in his tone.

"I think I know what you're getting at." Gordon opened the drawer to his desk, pulling out a manila folder and placing it atop a stack of papers at the corner of it. "I personally reviewed the accident report and photographs myself. It seemed too clean to have been an accident," he explained.

Bruce walked over to the desk, not bothering to pick up the folder. "I've analyzed them as well," he stated. "Both Scarlett and Ethan worked at Wayne Enterprises with decent paying jobs, but they were neglecting to pay their bills and received multiple shut off notices. Seems to me that they might have been in deep with the wrong people."

Gordon crossed his arms, nodding once. "My guess is that they owed somebody money and were saving up to pay them back," he said. "Which is why I took the liberty of pulling some bank records." He gestured toward the folder that Batman hadn't touched.

Bruce picked it up, glancing through it to find the bank statements Gordon was talking about. Ethan's account had a few monthly withdrawals, but Scarlett's hadn't had any in about a year. "They were definitely saving for something," he agreed.

He glanced at the next page. "Phone records?" he asked rhetorically, scanning the paper to see the same number appearing dozens of times.

"Looks like harassment," Gordon chimed in, nodding toward the folder in Bruce's hands.

"I'll look into it," he replied indifferently, closing the folder and placing it back on top of the stack of papers. He hesitated for a split second, but carried on disclosing his suspicions; ones that he were most-likely oblivious to. "Listen, I think your men are covering for whoever the Byrnes' owed money to."

Gordon grimaced at the thought, but he knew now that it wasn't out of the question. "Maybe you're right," he admitted. He still greatly wanted to have faith in the system, but he was painfully aware of how corrupt it had come to be, which is why he had acted on his suspicions and pulled the bank records without any of his men knowing.

Bruce desperately needed more information, but was glad to have the commissioner's support on his investigation. He pressed on. "Which of your men went to the crash site?" he sternly asked.

Gordon only hesitated for a moment, but gave the last names and descriptions of each officer and where they would probably be at this time. He took the file and looked down to put it back in the drawer of his desk; when he looked up, Batman was already gone.

Bruce moved quickly through the GCPD building, seeking out the officers Gordon was talking about. He said they were most-likely in the break room so that's where he was headed. He only needed one of them to talk; the others would simply be taken out for intimidation. He crawled through a vent overhead, waiting behind the grate leading into the room to listen into their conversation to make sure he had the right officers. When he got the confirmation he kicked out the grate, dropping down into the corner of the room. They all immediately turned to him, running at him prepared to brawl. They held no threat other than the fact that they could possibly call for backup so he had to take them out quickly so things wouldn't get out of hand. Going by Gordon's descriptions, he made sure to leave the officer who was the OIC at the accident site for last.

He held him up by the collar of his shirt, hand tightly clenched around its fabric as he held him off the ground. "Tell me the truth about the car crash you investigated this morning!" he shouted, clutching onto him tighter.

The officer grabbed onto his arm in desperation, struggling to speak. "Listen pal, I don't know what you want but –"

Bruce lifted him up higher. "Answer me!"

The officer's eyes widened, his feet dangling helplessly at least two feet from the ground as he was threatened by the black-clad vigilante. "Alright! Alright!" he shouted frantically. "I-It was a set up! We were paid to cover it up!"

Bruce snarled, jerking the officer a bit. "Who paid you?" he interrogated; no longer yelling but his voice stern and intimidating.

"H-his name's Smokes. He's a loan shark," the officer said willingly, his eyes pleading his wishes to be returned back on the ground. "He told us he was gonna set up an accident and we'd get paid if we didn't ask any questions and cover it up."

That was all Bruce needed to hear before his fist collided with the officer's head, knocking him unconscious. He tossed his body to the ground, standing amongst an array of unconscious bodies that lay across the floor. He needed access to the Batcomputer to find the location from which the phone calls were made as well as more about Smokes, but Alfred was unavailable to send him the information via his end in the Batcave. He had to go back to the Batcave and access the computer himself.

When he returned to the cave he immediately went to track down the location from where the phone calls were being made – a building in the Industrial District, which was now where he was headed next, though not before seeing what he could find out about Smokes.

Smokes being one of a few aliases, his real name was Sylvestro Moretti – a big shot loan shark who worked within one of the higher mob families in the city. He had enough money and power to have just the right amount of leverage over the police and it was no surprise that was utilizing them in this situation. A car crash would seem a bit eccentric if not for the power over the police. He was sly enough to keep himself from getting caught; a notable lack of criminal records, only some dropped investigations and some committed felonies from when he was younger. Bruce figured that he must have had quite the bit of men working beneath him to make use of as well as enough money to pay off whoever got in the way of his business.

He marked the location from which the phone calls originated on his map and set the coordinates to the Batwing before rushing out of the cave in search of the mysterious caller in hopes of it being Smokes himself.

The building was unkempt as most in the area were; dirt nearly covered all of its windows. It was an abandoned storage facility from the looks of it, smaller than the buildings around it, the calls likely coming from an office somewhere inside. Bruce found it interesting that it was conveniently located in an alley behind a few of Amertek Industries' warehouses; the perfect location to receive high grade weapons and supply some to other members of the mafia. It was very likely that Smokes had some sort of affiliation with someone working within the company, but he brushed the information off as he tried to find an access point into the building.

Bruce cautiously slipped in through a side door, finding going through the front to be too risky, and luckily encountered nobody yet. It wasn't until he walked into the next room – boxes of weapons stacked high atop a table on the opposite side of it – that two armed men turned upon hearing the door creak open. By the time it had clicked shut Bruce was dodging their fire, throwing a smoke pellet to the ground before skillfully coming up behind them as they coughed and flailed through the smoke, knocking both of their heads together and rendering them unconscious. He glowered at the amount of weapons – enough to compete with the Penguin's business – and hastily left the room. That wasn't what he was there for.

He exited into the main part of the storage facility; empty shelves lining the large room. It was completely desolate. He moved quietly, sure to not make his footsteps echo as he walked through the vacant room. He couldn't risk alarming anyone who could possibly be in the surrounding rooms, the sound of the gunfire being enough of a risk.

On the other side of the room there were a set of doors: one leading out into a hallway and one leading to an office – the room he was looking for. There was a window leading into the office and he could see somebody inside, though he couldn't get a good look due to the amount of dust that had collected on the glass. He stayed close to the wall, crouching beneath the window, then yanking open the door to reveal whoever was inside.

The man whipped around, pulling out a pistol with shaky hands at the sight of the Batman. Bruce dodged forward, holding his arm up as he shot before wrestling the gun away from him, unloading it and tossing it away. The man's eyes widened in fear as he heard the sound of the gun's metal slide across the floor, but before he could verbalize any pleas or threats Bruce grabbed a hold of his arm, turning him around and pinning him against the wall face-first with his arm out behind him.

He looked like a common thug, not like anyone too high in rank, and he definitely wasn't Smokes, but that didn't mean that he wasn't the one making the phone calls to the Byrnes'. The office was poorly kept just as the rest of the place was; fast food bags and wrappers scattered across the desk, but a phone and a list of phone numbers beside it also sat atop it.

"What do you want?!" the thug asked furiously, his cheek pressed hard against the brick wall. He tried to push himself off of the wall with his free hand but Bruce pulled his head away and slammed it back into the wall.

"The phone numbers on the table! What are they for?!" Bruce yelled, jolting forward and closer to the thug's face.

The thug gritted his teeth in anger. "I ain't tellin' you nothin'," he spat.

Bruce easily lost his patience and put more force on the man's arm. "A little more pressure on this arm and I'll break it. Talk!" he replied threateningly.

The thug winced in pain, letting out a small groan. Bruce could see the reluctance in his eyes and leaned closer to him intimidatingly. He let out a short raspy sigh, brows furrowing. "Fine," he hissed. "I call people who owe the boss money. Intimidate them a little so they won't think to screw him over."

Bruce tightened his grip on the man's arm. "And what happens when they _don't_ pay him?"

The thug seemed irritated by the question. "He sends a few of us guys in to rough 'em up a bit," he explained, annoyance in his tone in which Bruce responded by pushing his face even harder into the wall, but stopping a moment later so that he would be able to continue to answer his questions.

"Then why were the Byrnes' killed?!" Bruce's voice rose back into a furious yell, becoming increasingly impatient within milliseconds.

The thug flinched, holding his free hand up instinctively for defense even though it would do him no good. "'Cause they were gonna skip town with the boss's cash!" he answered, more willingly this time as he sensed the Batman's increase in frustration and became gradually more frustrated with the interrogation himself.

Bruce raised an eyebrow, calming a bit. "Why?" he asked himself, though the thug took it non-rhetorically and responded.

"The guy was always goin' on and on about some surgery he had to pay for last year or somethin', as if it would keep me from callin' like I actually give a shit," he scoffed.

Bruce growled, disgusted by the thug's reaction. "Where can I find Smokes?" His voice was low and rough. Again he could see how reluctant the thug was to disclose the information. "I don't have time to play games. Tell me where I can find him! Now!" he demanded, hand clenching tightly around the man's arm.

Wincing again, his arm throbbing where the Batman's hand formed tightly around it, he gave in. "Lacey Towers. He's got an apartment there. Happy?"

Bruce smirked deviously. "Very." He pulled back the thug's head once again, slamming it against the brick wall even harder than before. He finally let go of his arm and let his body drop to the floor where he laid out cold.

He bound the man's hands behind his back and did the same with the other two men he had encountered earlier before he snuck back out the way he came in. None of Smokes' other men had discovered either of the unconscious bodies lying on the floor of the weapons room, if there even were any other people there. He had collected just the amount of information he needed, now he needed to pass some of it along to the police commissioner.

* * *

**Author's note: **Oh gosh I'm so sorry about how lazy I was with this chapter. I think it's pretty noticeable. . I was originally really excited about writing it, but once I actually got to it... ehhh not so much. Also sorry for this chapter being Lucyless, since I wanted this to focus mainly on Bruce's investigation. The next chappy will have her in it, as well as the man (or men, technically) who murdered her parents. How will Bruce handle his encounter with said people? I guess you'll have to wait n see~


End file.
